The Snowmen
by kenzcraw
Summary: Snowmen that build themselves from nowhere, a pond that doesn't thaw, and a sad man who lives in a box on a cloud. How are they all connected? The curiosity of a governess who is really a barmaid may help save the world from snow and ice. "The Snowmen" as told from Clara's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello again! I find myself still pondering Clara and the amazing character she was during her time with the Doctor. And I found myself writing down certain points of her story and what I thought she might have been thinking during the more memorable times. And then I started thinking about all the in between moments. And then I thought "What was she thinking the moment they met? Really truly met, face to face?" And so, as a sort of experiment, this little snippet came to life. And if you people like the idea and where it's heading, perhaps I'll continue. This is the first time the Doctor encounters Clara's echo face to face. I had fun imagining it, so I hope you enjoy reading it! And if you'd like me to continue, let me know!**

More mugs, more cups, more plates. I scooped the last few off the table and set them on my tray, pausing to scan around the pub for more. Not finding any, I slipped through the crowded room toward the back of the place. I had to dodge around a bit, there were quite a few drunker-than-usual patrons about. It was almost Christmas Eve, after all. Better get on with the celebrations early.

I managed to get to the back door without too much trouble, and I was greeted with a blast of winter air when I opened it. _Oh how I hate the cold,_ I thought with a surge of irritation. And this snow is getting out of hand and… Wait.

I glanced back up at the alley with a frown. Had that snowman always been there? I didn't remember seeing it earlier… And did it have teeth? What kind of person made a snowman with sharp, dagger-like teeth?

I was still staring at the monstrosity when I heard the crunch of footsteps approaching from down the alley. Normally I would retreat back into the pub, but I was too captivated by the creation in front of me.

Whoever was approaching didn't offer me any kind of greeting, and since he was the only one about, there was only one explanation for the snowy beast. "Did you build this snowman?" I asked him as he made to walk by me. Though he kept his head ducked and his eyes on the ground at his feet, he towered at least a foot over me.

"No." He didn't stop.

"Well who did?" I asked. I looked up at him, and he slowed to a stop just before turning the corner. "Because it wasn't there a second ago, it just appeared. From nowhere."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I realized how absurd it sounded. A snowman that built itself from nothing? I'd be lucky if this man didn't call a doctor for me.

If he had any such thoughts, he hid them well. In fact, instead of turning and accusing me mad, he actually looked quite curious. He came back the way he'd come, fishing a pair of round spectacles out of his pocket. Offering me a slightly skeptical look, he circled around the snowman for a moment, looking it up and down with keen green eyes. He pinched a bit of the snow between his middle finger and thumb.

"Maybe its snow that fell before," he said thoughtfully, eyeing the ice crystals as they fell through his fingers. "Maybe it remembers how to make snowmen."

I grinned at him, amused. "What, snow that can remember? That's silly." But I liked it.

He glanced over at me. "What's wrong with silly?"

"Nothin," I assured him. "Still talkin to you, ain't I?"

He looked at me for a split second like he was surprised. When I smiled a bit more, he finally grinned back. "What's your name?" he asked, slipping the glasses off his nose.

"Clara," I said.

His smile grew, but his eyes seemed sad. "Nice name," he said. "Clara." And to my surprise, he began to stride away on those long legs without looking back at me. "You should definitely keep it. Goodbye!" He vanished around the corner.

Wait, was that it? Feeling cheated and a little miffed, I followed. "Oi!" I called down the street after him. He didn't slow. "Where you going? I thought we was just getting acquainted!" Did he have no manners? I'd given him my name, he at least had to have the decency to give me his!

The man stopped, turned around to look at me. I waited, but all he did was smile sadly and mutter "Those were the days," almost too quiet for me to hear. I frowned at him, confused, but he turned and walked away again. It was quite obvious he didn't want me to follow.

So, even though I instantly wanted to go after him again and demand he be a gentleman, I retreated back down the alley toward the bar. What a curious sort of fellow. He was so young, no older than me, but there was something about his eyes. They were so old, so sad. Like he'd seen things and done things he'd rather not remember. I pondered those eyes, slowing to a stop before I reached the back door. Why was he so sad, I wondered.

I heard the faint crack of a whip, the plopping of hooves on the cobblestoned street. Thinking fast and knowing I was being reckless and maybe a little stupid, I backed up until I reached the corner again. I watched the carriage roll past the alley with the sad, silly man in it. I felt my curiosity flare, almost unbearably.

Oh, to hell with it.

I hiked up my skirts and took off down the street after the sad man's carriage. It had a bit of a head start on me, but I managed to catch up after only a few moments. I'm sure any passerby who saw me jump onto the back and climb up to the roof were certain I was a crazed lunatic, but I couldn't make myself care. Let them think what they wished.

I'd just heard the sad man say something about "the name Doctor" when I pulled the door on the top of the carriage open with a crash.

"Doctor?" I repeated, dropping my head and shoulders down through the opening. I took immense satisfaction in the look of shock on his face, even though I was upside down. "Doctor who?"

 **Continue? Don't continue? Let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hello hello! Well, I'm having way too much fun being in Clara's head. So here's a bit more from that first Christmas adventure. Oh, and if any of you have a scene, mostly from seasons 7-9, that you'd like me to write from Clara's POV or the Doctor's, let me know! I have way too much fun borrowing Moffat's characters and could use any excuse to keep doing so. Anyhoo, enough from me. Happy reading!**

How dare he!?

I knew they could hear me, I was not being quiet. I shouted and pounded on the carriage door, but the sad man and his little pal took no notice. They were standing a little ways off down the street. The man, the Doctor, he called himself, was kneeling down, sifting through the snow. His little friend was saying something, but of course I couldn't hear.

Not that I cared. He'd locked me in a cab! The nerve of him!

"Oi! Doctor!" I shouted. I pounded on the window again. "Let me out!"

The Doctor had risen from his spot on the street and was exchanging a few words with his friend. He certainly seemed annoyed as he took his little pal's head between his hands and shook him a little.

"Doctor!" I shoved against the door and only succeeded in shaking the entire cab. Oh, I wondered what that looked like from the outside. "Don't know what you're thinking, locking a woman up in a cab! Oi! Doctor!"

I slapped against the window and shouted again just when it was flung open. I scooted back against the other side of the cab, startled.

"Don't worry." The Doctor's voice was bored and tired as he climbed into the carriage. "No one's going to hurt you."

His little pal hesitated outside. "What is that thing?" I demanded, trying to mask the uncertainly with as much bravado that I could muster.

The potato thing glared at me with little beady eyes. "Silence, boy!"

"That's Strax," the Doctor said. "And as you can see-" he turned to the potato- "he's _easily_ _confused_!"

Strax seemed to take the hint. "Silence, girl!" he amended to me. "Sorry, lad."

"Sontaran," the Doctor explained, again in the bored tone. "Factory produced, whole legions at a time. Two genders is a bit further than he can count!" The last bit he aimed at his friend with a bit of venom.

"Sir, do not discuss my reproductive cycle in front of enemy girls," the potato man muttered. "It's embarrassing."

"Typical middle child of six million," the Doctor stage-whispered to me, like he fully intended for his friend to hear him.

A potato man? Six million? Factory produced? "Who are you?" I was at a complete loss.

"It doesn't matter," the Doctor snapped. "Because you are about to forget that you and I ever met." He turned to Strax. "We'll need the worm."

"Sir," he replied with a solemn edge in his voice. He turned and strode toward the front of the cab.

"You'll need the _what_?" I squeaked after him. "The worm? What worm?"

"Don't worry, it won't hurt you," the Doctor assured me calmly. "But one touch on your bare skin and you'll lose the last hour of your memory."

I stared at him with open mouthed shock. Who _was_ he? Lose my memory? How could a worm erase memory? And he just carried something like that around with him? Why? Where had he come by such a thing?

My heart gave a lurch of real fear when Strax returned. But there was something off about him. Well, he didn't really seem very bright from the start, but now his eyes seemed to be even more dull than they were a second ago. And I saw nothing that resembled a worm with him.

The Doctor seemed to notice at the same time I did. "Where is it?" he demanded.

"Where's what, sir?" replied Strax.

The Doctor fixed him with a heated glare. "I sent you to get the memory worm," he growled.

"Did you?" Strax said, confused. "When?" His eyes flitted to me and widened. "Who's he?"

Wait, what? I glanced at the Doctor in surprise, and he shot an embarrassed look back. The little potato man had forgotten me already?

"What are we doing here?" Strax continued, sounding very confused indeed. But a smile suddenly lit his face when he glanced at his surroundings like he was seeing them for the first time. "Look! It's been snowing!"

The Doctor huffed a frustrated breath. "You didn't use the gauntlets, did you?"

"Why would I need the gauntlets?" Strax asked. Comprehension dawned on his face after a second of consideration, and he leaned toward the Doctor. "Do you want me to get the memory worm?" he asked, like a co-conspirator. The Doctor glanced between me and Strax, muttering under his breath with agitation. I felt a grin spread across my face. Oh, this was going to be fun.

I followed the Doctor eagerly as he climbed out of the cab in a huff. He and Strax went to the front, the Doctor grumbling about psychotic potato dwarfs while I leaned against the window of the nearby shop. The two of them began rummaging around the cab, and I giggled as the Doctor's agitation only increased with Strax's cluelessness.

There was a high-pitched squeal from under the cab. Strax glanced up at the Doctor, and the Doctor raised his eyebrows and gestured toward the snow with his hand. _What are you waiting for_? He seemed to be saying. _Go get it_!

Strax began grumbling himself as he slid underneath the cab. I took notice of what he was lacking, and my amusement grew.

"Well do you see it?" the Doctor demanded.

That high pitched squeal answered. "I think I can hear it!" called Strax.

Oh yes, this was going to be very amusing. I couldn't contain my giggle of anticipation.

The Doctor turned at the sound, like he'd just remembered I was there. "Oi!" he said. "Don't try to run away! Stay where you are!"

"Why would I run?" I chuckled. "I know what's gonna happen next, and it's funny." And I was not going to miss it.

"What's funny?" the Doctor asked. Had he really not put it together?

"Well, your little pal, for a start," I said. And what was going to happen to him in a second. Again. "Ugly little fellow, isn't he?"

The Doctor strode toward me. "Maybe," he allowed, though he looked slightly offended. He cared for the little potato man more than he let on. "He gave his life for a friend of mine once."

"Then how come he's alive?" I asked, bewildered. Though I was starting to see the trend of the impossible that seemed to surround him. Soon nothing was going to be able to surprise me.

"Another friend of mine brought him back," he replied simply. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared down at Strax's shoes poking out from under the cab. "I'm not sure all his brains made the return trip!"

"Neither am I," I muttered with another wide grin. I began to move toward the cab.

"I can see it!" Strax announced. I peeked into the box that was sitting on the driver's seat.

"Ooh!" exclaimed the Doctor with a childlike glee. He was smiling the first real smile I'd seen. He seemed so much younger. "Can you reach it? Have you got it?"

There was a silent pause while I reached into the box and took hold of my quarry. Then Strax's voice, somewhat unfocused. "Got what, sir?"

I pulled them out and held them up for the Doctor to see. "Because these are the gauntlets, aren't they?"

The Doctor sprang up from where he had been kneeling, staring at the three-fingered, thick gloves in my hand when they were supposed to be on the hands of his friend. The friend that had certainly just forgotten what he was looking for and why. I barely suppressed my laughter as the Doctor's expression melted to unsurprised chagrin.

"Sir! Emergency!" Strax shouted. "I think I've been run over by a cab!"

The Doctor glared down at his friend's shoes in exasperation. Snapping at Strax to get out of his way and grumbling about doing everything himself, he donned the gloves and grasped around the bottom of the cab. His hand followed the squeaking of what I assumed to be the worm in question. He let out a "ha!" of triumph at the same instant the worm squealed in what sounded like denial.

"There you go!" He pulled his arm away from the cab, and I grimaced in disgust at the thick, long worm that wriggled in his grasp. "One touch and you lose about an hour of your memory." He fumbled for the jar he had stashed in his little box of goodies, and the worm struggled desperately. "Let it bite you, and you could lose decades." It took a bit of shoving, but the Doctor managed to squeeze the worm into the jar and slid the lid over the top.

He grinned, but then gave me a quizzical look. "And you're still not trying to run." Though he said it like a simple statement of fact, I could hear the question he wasn't asking. _Why_?

"I don't understand how the snowman built itself," I said. "I'll run once you've explained." Because it was obvious from the way his face closed off and how he looked away from me that he had at least an idea of how snow could suddenly spring itself into a snowman.

Instead of explaining, he pulled the gloves off his hands. "Clara who?" he asked quietly.

"Doctor who?" I countered.

"Oh, dangerous question."

"What's wrong with dangerous?"

The Doctor glanced up at me with surprise. I grinned back, hoping to encourage him. What with the potato man and the worm that erased memory, the circumstances of which we had met had completely slipped my mind. Now my curiosity was blazing out of control. Snow that could remember? Didn't seem so silly anymore. Time for him to explain.

There was a muffled blast from down the street, and I turned to look just as the Doctor started saying something about a telepathic field.

"The snowman!" I meant my voice to be louder, but it only came out a breathless whisper. It definitely hadn't been there a second ago. Where had it come from? My heart started to pound.

The Doctor was still saying rubbish about the snow mirrioring memories and taking no notice of the monstrosity just feet from us. "No, Doctor!" I grabbed his arm and yanked him away from where he had been admiring his little worm. I pointed. "The snowman!"

"Ah, interesting." He seemed mildly impressed and nonchalant as he rubbed his hands together and strode toward the snowman with me still holding on to his arm. "Well, were you thinking about it?"

"Yes," I said. And to my horror, the snow shifted and grew until another snowman, teeth and all, stood next to the first.

"Well, stop." The Doctor seized my hand and yanked me around to head back to the cab, but yet another snowman had grown and was blocking our path. My heart leapt into my throat.

"Clara, stop thinking about the snowmen!" the Doctor shouted. How in the world was I supposed to do that when they were surrounding us? All I could possibly think about were those blasted snowmen! The one in front of us bared its teeth and roared, sending a flurry of ice cold snowflakes into our faces.

"Get down!" The Doctor tugged on my hand and yanked me to the ground. To my utter dismay, the snowman seemed to grow taller, towering over us. Oh my stars, we were about to get eaten by a snowman.

"Clara, listen to me," the Doctor said urgently. He cupped my face with both hands, long fingers wrapping around the back of my head. It was oddly comforting, but not enough to combat the raging terror. "The snow's feeding off your thoughts."

Feeding off my thoughts? What did that even mean? "I don't understand!" I exclaimed.

"You're caught in their telepathic field," the Doctor said. "They're mirroring you! The more you think about the snowmen the more they appear."

Still not quite understanding. How could snow read my thoughts? But all things considered, I was ready to believe anything.

"Imagine them melted," he continued, his hands pressing close to my head. "Picture it. Picture them melted!"

Well if he said so who was I to argue? I squeezed my eyes shut and forced the image into my head. Puddles of melted snow. A warm breeze so they had no way to grow again.

I squeaked and the Doctor gasped as a wave of icy cold water blasted us. I cracked my eyes open, and the alley was filled with water. No snowmen, though.

"Well, very good," the Doctor said with a pat on my knees. "Very, very good!"

He stood, and without his steadiness to hold on to, I sank back against the wall behind me with a huff. He looked around us at the puddles of water where the snowmen had just stood, sloshing around in wet shoes. He barked a laugh and turned back the way we'd come.

A sudden thought struck me. "Is that going to happen again?" I asked him. I thought I already knew the answer, and it made my stomach flip. Yes, it could happen again.

"Well, if it does," the Doctor turned back to me with a flourish of his hands and a cheerful smile. The jar with the worm was clutched in his fist. "You'll know what to do about it."

I stood, nodding at his hand. "Unless I forget." Ha! Now I didn't have to touch that disgusting thing!

I grinned at him in triumph. He glanced at the jar, and the smile melted off his face. I knew however much he wanted me to forget him, he wanted me to be safe more. I couldn't fathom why, we'd only just met, but it was obvious that his choice was simple. Making me forget was the same as leaving me defenseless against those monsters. And that was something he wouldn't do.

That childlike glee was gone now, replaced by the sadness I'd seen before. He reached down and pulled me to my feet. "Don't come looking for me," he said, tugging me back toward the cab. He opened the door and I climbed in. "Forget about me, do you understand?"

How could I possibly forget him? I knew even if I never did see him again, he was seared into my memory.

But that wasn't the problem I needed to think about right now. "But what about the snowmen?" I asked. He hesitated in closing the door. "Shouldn't we be warning people?"

He smirked coldly. "Not my problem." With that, he slammed the door shut. He rested his hand against the glass for an instant, calling "Merry Christmas," before he strode away.

Oh no, he was not leaving me like that, with so many more questions than I could even think about. I was getting my answers whether he wanted to give them or not.


End file.
